Chapter 8

You Can Always Get It Right Ze Second Time

Lunch with Janet had felt familiar, and recalled an old memory that he'd nearly forgotten – their weekly lunch dates. There was the same casual conversation about each other's days, gossip about coworkers, grazes of the hand.

Of course, this time there had been two children in tow and one of them refused to eat anything but macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets. Still, he was able to learn more about Janet's job at the studio, how Tina had been so impressed with Janet's teaching that she'd allowed her to create her own classes, which led to her teaching dance classes. They formed a partnership when they both decided they needed more space and opened a new studio and gym. Janet had beamed as she'd recalled the story to Jack, who'd insisted that he just wanted to hear it repeated for no special reason at all. And Jack, for his part, couldn't help but beam with pride in return.

"I'm not having feelings, you know," he told the silent, observing Junior as he cleaned up after dinner that night. Janet had taken Jamie upstairs for a bath. "I'm merely engaging in a reality that doesn't really exist. I'm making the most of it. But it's not real. Right?" Junior continued to stare at him. "Right?"

Jack placed the last dish on the rack and sighed as he wiped his hands. "You're no help, kid. No help at all," he said, picking him up out of his highchair and balancing him on his hip as he headed upstairs.

"Besides, it's all temporary, right? I mean, that's what Dr. Prescott said. It's a glimpse. None of this...I mean, it's not real. You, no offense, are basically a figment of my imagination," he said to the child, who responded by passing a foul odor. Jack pressed a hand over his nose and mouth to stifle his gag reflex. "Okay, that's real. That's definitely real. Janet?!" he called down the hallway at the top of the stairs.

"We're the bedroom!" she called back.

Jack held Junior at arm's length in front of him, trying his best to breath in short bursts of air. He heard giggling and stopped at his and Janet's bedroom door.

Jamie sat on Janet's lap and fiddled with the makeup on the vanity while Janet combed her hair wet hair. Gently, Jamie painted a doll's cheeks with a tube of lipstick, two little pink circles forming on its cheeks.

"Oh, she looks beautiful," Janet commented when Jamie turned the doll toward her. "But not too much. That's mommy's expensive lipstick."

"Can I try you?"

Janet paused and smiled at her daughter. "You know what? Come here." She turned Jamie around to face her. "You know mommy and daddy love you very much, right?"

"Mmhm," Jamie nodded confidently.

"And sometimes big people...well, sometimes big people have big feelings, and it makes them act a little funny. But that doesn't mean they love you any less, right?"

Jamie nodded again, unfazed. "It's okay, mom. He's still getting to know our ways."

Janet breathed a soft laugh. "Here," she said, taking the lipstick from Jamie's hand. "Go like this." She puckered her lips.

"Really?" Jamie asked excitedly.

"Uh huh," Janet smiled. Jamie puckered her lips like her mother as she applied the lipstick. "Now go like this," she added, smacking her lips now. Jamie repeated the movement, until her and Janet were both smacking their lips and laughing.

Jack looked on, a smile growing on his face. He held Junior close now, no longer noticing, or caring about, the smell of his diaper. Janet spotted him through the mirror and turned around.

"There you are," she smiled.

"Mommy, can I do daddy's makeup?" Jamie squeaked.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask daddy?" She devilishly raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"That's okay, I'd rather change the diaper," Jack said, backing away.

Janet and Jamie both tackled him at the same time, Janet quickly grabbing Junior before Jack dramatically fell down to the floor. Jamie proceeded to slather his lips with the lipstick, giggling. "Now go like this!" she repeated Janet's words, smacking her lips.

"I won't!" Jack cried pathetically, playing along. "This is a mutiny! Janet, help me!"

"I can't. I have a diaper to change," she laughed, stepping over him.

"I'm going to make you so pretty, dad!" Jamie laughed, pulling a rubber band out of her doll's hair.

"No, not the hair! Not the hair!"

...

Jack sat with his eyes glued to the television (a hint of lipstick remained on his lips, despite his best efforts to wipe it away). Guy Frisco looked different – confident, more professional, less tired. His hair looked absolutely fantastic. Gone was the meek and timid family man who'd constantly looked to Jack for reassurance; the man on the TV was somebody else entirely. The man on the TV was who Jack had been only a short two days ago. And what's worse, he was good. As good as Jack was, if not better.

"Ze important thing zat you want to do is to ensure ze browning of ze chicken, so that zer is a crust forming on the edges, see?" Guy said on the TV, a slight French accent present in his voice.

"You're from Chicago, Guy. Give me a break," Jack grumbled back at the screen. He never felt the need to use a fake French accent on the show. Tacky.

"We then use ze drippings of ze chicken to begin the red wine sauce for ze Coq Au Vin. A good tip to remember, at zis point, is to put ze dark meat in first, with ze white meat added only at ze end. Zis prevents the white meat from becoming overcooked and rubbery," Guy explained, expertly moving around the kitchen as he spoke.

"Son of a bitch," Jack muttered to himself. "That is a good tip."

He found himself growing angry – angry that his job could clearly be done by anyone, angry that maybe he wasn't so important after all, angry that everything he had worked for had all been ripped away from him by some magical, freakish therapist against his will.

And yet here he was, reclining in what was probably the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in in his life, feeling completely and utterly...safe. At home. It wasn't glamorous by any means, but the gnawing, lingering feeling that had been eating away at him for seven years had subsided. It was like a game of tug of war was waging in his head and one side or the other was going to be knee deep in mud sooner or later.

'It's only been two days,' he reminded himself. 'And I'm doing just fine. Even if I've never been more confused in my life. I'm fine. I'm fine, and Dr. Prescott can get on his self-righteous high horse all he wants. I can have the best of both worlds. That's how I win.' "Do you hear that?" Jack said out loud, hoping the man, somewhere, was listening. "I'm the one winning in all of this!"

"Remember, Mesdames et Messieurs, each cooking experience is a gift, a chance to start over. If you don't get it right ze first time, you can always get it right ze second time, eh?" Guy responded from the TV.

"Shut up," Jack grumbled, moving to change the channel when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest from behind.

"The kids are asleep," he heard Janet's voice whisper seductively in his ear.

"Huh? Oh, that's good," Jack replied mindlessly, his eyes still focused on the TV. Janet rolled her eyes and reached for the remote to turn it off. "Hey, I was watching that!" Jack protested.

Janet proceeded to string kisses along the crook of neck, her hands tenderly exploring his chest. "Guy Frisco will never be as good a chef as you, Jack," she said, her hands now making their way under the top of his shirt. "You're ten times the chef and the man that he'll ever be." Jack closed his eyes and let off a pleasurable sigh. Right now, those words felt like the sexiest thing a woman could say to him. A button came loose, and then another. He leaned back into her, completely and entirely enraptured, before his eyes suddenly snapped open in realization.

He jumped up out of the chair and turned around to face her. She looked back at him, her brow furrowed. "What?" she asked.

"Uh...I...I..."

"Was it the Guy Frisco thing? Did I lay it on too thick this time?" she asked.

"No. No! I-I loved the Guy Frisco thing! I just..."

"What?" she asked again, a hint of amusement in her voice.

That wasn't exactly an easy question for Jack to answer. He couldn't tell her he was nervous because the two of them had never slept together before. From her vantage point, they had. At least twice. And it wasn't that he didn't want to because he very, very, very much did. It was just...he hadn't been prepared. He hadn't had the chance to be prepared. And even when you've wanted something for years and years, if you aren't given the opportunity to mentally prepare for it, it could go all wrong. And with Janet, it had to be perfect.

"Nothing! Nothing. I'm...fffine. I am ready for se – I'm gonna...you are about to be so – it is going to be so h-hot...it's – we – I am...reporting for duty, ma'am!" Jack stuttered, then winced at his own word vomit.

Janet chuckled. "Okay, that's a new approach," she said, moving toward him and placing her hands on his arms. "Listen, I'll be, uh, waiting upstairs," she whispered into his ear. She slowly backed away, her hands lingering on his arms, then moving to his hands before they dropped to her sides, all the while never breaking eye contact. Before Jack could respond, she turned around and made for the stairs. Just as she was about to ascend, she looked over her shoulder, a mischievous spark in her eyes, and began to unbutton her own blouse.

Jack was only able to respond with a cacophony of anxious noises. He slowly moved toward the stairs in a dream like trance, fighting with himself in his head. He was allowed to do this, right? Was it part of the deal? Of course he could. It's not real! It's a dream. He can do whatever he wants. But it's Janet! But Janet's his wife! But it's Janet!

"I'll be waiting!" Janet called from upstairs. Before he could respond, her blouse landed on top of his head. He slowly pulled it off and looked down at it as he held it in his heads – silky, pink, and a hint of her floral perfume.

'Don't be an idiot,' he thought to himself, by this point already extremely turned on. 'Legal sex. With Janet!' and with that he threw the shirt over his shoulder and ran up the stairs. When he noticed their bedroom door had been shut, with only a small crack letting out any light, he began to move slowly again. It struck him then that this was going to happen, and even though sex had never been a big deal before, now it suddenly seemed to be. He felt like a nervous kid, and it was then that he knew it was always going to be a big deal if it was her. Inhaling deeply, he placed his hand on the door and pushed softly...

...and immediately found himself being slammed back into the wall, her lips crushing his with eager passion. It took him a moment to process. He pulled back, stunned, searching her eyes, which gazed back at him hungrily. Before he allowed another second to pass, his lips were back on hers, initiating this time, putting every ounce of hunger, desire, and need he'd held onto for years into it. Janet didn't seem surprised in the least. They'd always done it like this. They did this all the time.

They were on the bed in seconds, backing toward it until her knees buckled and he fell on top of her. Her hands were tangled in his hair, and he could barely puil away, but he had to; he needed to look at her. He angled his head, and her lips landed on his cheek, his chin, his neck. He breathed her in, and as his exhaled breath landed back on her she shivered.

"Don't stop, Jack," she panted.

He looked at her for a moment longer before he spoke, taking in the way her messy hair framed her face, the strap of her bra that dangled along her shoulder, the softness of her skin. "God," he whispered gently, barely audible, "you're so beautiful." When she only giggled softly in reply he added, "No, I'm serious. I mean, I always knew you were a beautiful woman but...but this," he said, gently running his thumb over the creases that had only recently formed around her eyes while cradled her head.

She gazed back at him, her eyes appearing to almost see him in a different light for the first time in years. "How do you do it, Jack?" she whispered back to him.

"Do what?"

"How do you look at me like you haven't seen me nearly every day for the past 15 years?" her eyes searched his, enamored.

"It's easy when the person I'm looking at is as beautiful as you are."

Janet laughed again, rolling her eyes this time. "You're really laying it on thick tonight for somebody who's already about to get lucky, Jack." She shook her head, still smiling. "You know, you look really beautiful too," she teased, thumbing his cheek and rubbing away some blush that he hadn't managed to fully remove from Jamie's little makeover earlier. "No wonder I can't resist you tonight."

Jack furiously rubbed away the blush with the back of his hand. "I thought I got the rest of that."

She shook her head again and pulled him back toward her. Their lips were on each other's once more, perfectly choreographed against the others' as if they'd done this their whole lives. He pulled away to take her in again, stunned that after all these years she was finally allowing him to do this. He couldn't push the thought out of his head, couldn't get over it. He traced her cheeks with his thumb, her jawline, her lips, which parted at his touch. He felt like he was in a dream – and maybe he was.

"Wait here," he stopped, pushing himself all the way up off the bed."

"Jack, what are you doing?" Janet protested, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Don't move!" he said, moving toward the bathroom. She deserved him at his best – better than this. Not covered in makeup, not covered in the grime of the day. Junior may have peed on him a little, he didn't know, but something still didn't quite smell right. He shut the door behind him and rapidly scanned the bathroom before bolting to the sink, sifting through toiletries so frantically he knocked most of them over.

"Are you okay?" he heard Janet's muffled voice through the door.

"Fine!" he called back, panting, anxious, hormones coursing through his body and doing everything in his power to both control it and maintain it so he could get the hell back out there as quickly as possible.

"Deodorant? Deodorant!" he muttered loudly, rifling through the medicine cabinet. Unable to find anything for men, he pulled off his shirt and hopped onto the sink, cupping his hands and splashing the water under his armpits with some soap. He reached for the talcum powder to top it off, but managed to coat his face in the process, moving quickly and carelessly as he was. He furiously wiped (most of) it off before noting a bottle of baby oil gleaming in the bathroom light as if it were coaxing him.

"Bingo," he whispered, zeroing in on it.

The two steps it took to reach it were enough to send him falling feet up onto the ground, tripping in the puddle of water he'd created while washing himself. He knocked his head on edge of the sink and shrieked in pain, and reached for the bump that he was sure was now forming on his forehead.

"What is going on in there?" he heard Janet again.

"Nothing! Everything's peachy!" he shrieked through gritted teeth. "Be right out!"

He slowly attempted to push himself up, taking care not to fall considering the room was now spinning around him. He took his anger out on the bottle of baby oil, which was still sitting there on the counter, taunting him, and aggressively reached for it. Moments later he was glistening like a Greek god on Mount Olympus. Unfortunately, this meant that he was also as slippery as a bar of soap in the shower, and he had to move with extreme caution if he wished to avoid another injury. He admired himself in the mirror, flexing his muscles and pushing back his hair.

"This is it," he said to himself in the mirror. "This is the moment you have been waiting for for almost fifteen years. Don't screw it up." With those last four words, he'd lifted his finger up to point to himself through the mirror, but in doing so knocked the wedding ring he'd removed to oil his body straight into the toilet.

"No," he whispered – a statement of disbelief. "Noo!" he repeated, still a whisper but one that he shrieked through his teeth. "No! No, god, no!" he pleaded, pushing the lid up and looking inside. He could see the edge of the ring glistening in the center of the bowl. He inhaled slowly, steadying himself, then gently reached inside. "Steady," he murmured, grazing the ring with his index finger. "Steady..."

On the other side of the door, Janet listened to Jack's chaotic movements. After a series of curses, she heard what appeared to be the sound of pipes being unscrewed. She had half a mind to go in there and see what in the world he was up to but decided against it. Jack was going through something, and if he needed a moment to do some plumbing before sex, well...she supposed she'd just have to let him do what he needed to do. She sighed and picked up the copy of her book, Murder! At the Disco,that sat on the bedside table and turned to her favorite part.

At around the same time, Chrissy sauntered into the room, hopped onto the bed, and laid her head on Janet's legs. She ran her hands through the dog's fur as Jack let out another string of curses. Ten minutes later the bathroom door swung open so forcefully that it vibrated as it swung back. Janet looked up to see Jack leaning seductively against the door frame. His body was glistening in the soft glow of the bedroom lamp's light and he held the wedding ring between his thumb and index finger. He raised his left hand and, slowly and dramatically, slid the ring back onto his ring finger.

"Beat it, Chrissy," he said, snapping his fingers (though failing to produce much sound due to the sheer amount of oil). The dog hopped up and sauntered back out of the room.

Janet's mouth hung slightly open, and she cleared her throat to speak. "G – gosh, Jack, it sure took you long enough. What on earth were you doing in th –

As she spoke, he'd moved back over to the bed in long strides, positioning himself back on top of her. Before she could finish her sentence, he'd pulled the book out of her hand and thrown it over his shoulder. His eyes remained on hers before slowly moving down to her lips, lingering there for a moment before engulfing her in a passionate kiss, to which she responded with a deep moan. She latched onto him, entangling her fingers in his hair, running them down his neck and over his shoulders as his kisses moved down her body, lower...and lower...and lower...